A few days had passed since the mediation ended. That day in the hallway of the Chito Family Court Shiomi Branch—when the lawyer Tsurumi told her, "Sole custody has been granted," Shiori felt nothing at first. Her mind went blank, and it took her repeating the words three times before she finally understood: *Ah, I won.* Now, several days later, Shiori stood in the kitchen doing nothing. The rice was cooked. Rikuto had gone to school. She'd made his lunch. Work was off today. There was nothing left to do. *(…What am I supposed to do now?)* For the past few months, Shiori's mind had always held a list of "what comes next." Contacting the lawyer, preparing documents, scheduling the mediation, making excuses to Rikuto. And now that it was all gone—she was just standing in the kitchen, frozen. It was a silence so complete it was almost absurd. "Knock knock knock!" A sound came from outside—someone pounding on the door. With too much force. *It's Yone,* Shiori thought. Age had nothing to do with how rough someone's knock could be. "[angry] Hey, Mizunatsuki! You in there pacing around the house again?" "I'm not." "Can't tell without seeing your face. Come out." When she opened the door, there stood Yone with her white permed hair, holding a canned coffee in one hand. The wrinkles on her left cheek moved energetically as always. Yone stared hard at Shiori's face, then said, "Hmm." "[sarcastic] You look better than I thought. But your face is tired. Go outside." "But I don't really have anywhere to—" "[sarcastic] People who wait until they have a reason to go out always lose. Wash your face and take a walk sometime. Go to the shopping street." "…Yes." Thinking how this woman left no room for argument, Shiori grabbed her wallet and keys. Yone was already heading back to the main house without looking back. That was just how she was—Shiori had learned that by now. --- The Honmachi shopping street had a decent number of people even on a weekday afternoon. The arcade shopping street, about three hundred fifty meters long, had more shuttered storefronts than before, but "Kaasan's Kitchen" with its prepared foods and "Bunei-do" stationery shop were open as always. Mothers with shopping bags and elderly people walking slowly passed by each other. Shiori walked slowly with no particular destination in mind. "[excited] Oh, Shiori! I haven't seen you in a while—are you okay?" A round-faced woman called out from the entrance of the prepared foods shop. She was wearing an apron and holding cooking chopsticks in her hand. "I'm fine. Just been busy." "I see, I see. How's Rikuto doing?" "He's doing well, going to school every day." "That's good then. Today's croquettes are fresh-fried." She took one and ate it while walking through the arcade. The fresh-fried croquette was crispy on the outside and steaming hot inside. *(Ah, that's good.)* It was such a small thing, and yet something inside her seemed to loosen, gradually. Her feet stopped in front of Bunei-do. Notebooks were lined up in the display window. *(Oh right, Rikuto said he was running out of notebooks soon.)* When she stepped inside, the smell of stationery hit her. That nostalgic scent of pen ink mixed with paper. Shiori picked up notebooks one by one from the shelf. Graph paper, ruled lines, ones where you could write larger characters. Rikuto had a lot of vertical writing homework, so horizontal lines were better. The spacing between lines should be wider— *(…I'm just shopping normally.)* When she realized that fact, Shiori let out a wry smile despite herself. It was obvious. And yet, for the past few months, she hadn't even had the luxury of doing "normal shopping." Standing here with a notebook in hand, she finally understood: ordinary days were right there, waiting for her. She picked two notebooks with horizontal lines and took them to the register. --- By the time she'd walked to the edge of the shopping street, Shiori found herself in front of the café "Nagisoan." A wooden building forty-five years old, with a small "OPEN" sign hanging on the door. The smell of coffee drifted out to the street. She thought she'd take a short break and opened the door—and in that instant, she froze at the entrance. Tsubasa Sakuma was sitting at the end of the counter. Short black hair, navy shirt, holding a coffee cup in both hands while reading a book. The silver piercing in his right ear reflected the warm light of the café. When he noticed her coming in, he looked up—and their eyes met. For a moment, neither of them spoke. "Please, please come in. Are you alone? Any seat is fine," the café owner Tatsuo Seo called out from behind the counter. The sixty-seven-year-old former high school teacher looked at them both with a gentle, smiling face. Sakuma closed his book and said quietly, "The seat next to me is open." *(What do I do?)* But if she said "Actually, I'm leaving," that would be strange too. Shiori said "Excuse me" and sat two seats away from Sakuma. She thought the distance was awkward, but sitting right next to him felt wrong too—this was the best she could manage. "A blend, please." "Coming right up," Seo said, starting to brew the coffee. For a while, there was silence. Sakuma had his eyes back on his book. Shiori was looking at the wood grain of the counter. Soft old jazz played quietly in the café, and the aroma of coffee filled the air. "[surprised] Oh, isn't that Yone-san!" Shiori's head snapped up. Yone was standing at the entrance now. White permed hair and canned coffee still in hand (was she still drinking that?). *(Why is she here?)* "[sarcastic] Just happened by. Stopped in for a moment." Yone looked at Shiori, then at Sakuma, then back at Shiori. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "…Oh, that's right, I—" Yone's face took on the look of someone who'd just remembered something. "[sarcastic] I had business at the bookstore. Right, I forgot. Well then." It was a lie. Completely a lie, Shiori thought. But before she could stop her, Yone said "Take your time" and slipped out smoothly. Seo brought the coffee with a gentle smile. He said nothing more and retreated to the back. She could feel from his posture that he was being considerate. They were alone now. Shiori held her coffee cup in both hands. Sakuma did the same. The two of them sat together, looking at the wood grain of the counter. "[gentle] Starting next week, Rikuto's schedule will change slightly." Sakuma spoke. His tone was as calm as always, but his voice seemed softer than usual. "[gentle] Thursday's PE shifts an hour, and science increases. I'll distribute the handout next week, but just so you know." "Thank you, that helps." The conversation ended there. Silence. Shiori tried to think of something to say, but nothing came. The more she tried to say something casual, the more words eluded her. "[gentle] Do you… come here often, sensei?" She barely managed to squeeze it out. A truly, utterly casual question. "Twice a month or so." "I see." Silence again. She took a sip of coffee. It was bitter, with a faintly sweet aftertaste. The jazz in the café continued softly. And then—Sakuma, still gazing at his coffee cup, spoke. "[gentle] What do you want to do from here on?" Shiori paused for a moment. Not about Rikuto, not about school, not about work. A question directed at Shiori herself—it took her a second to understand that. *(What do I want to do?)* She'd never thought about it. For years now, Shiori had only thought about "what I must do." "What I want to do" was something she'd kept putting off. "…I'm still scared." Her voice had become small. "Being alone became so normal. I'm just… so afraid of relying on anyone." After saying it, she felt a little embarrassed. But strangely, she didn't regret it. Sakuma didn't answer right away. He slowly set his coffee cup down on the counter and was silent for a few seconds. "[gentle] I think that's fine." "Huh?" "[gentle] You don't have to force yourself to change. Just—when you get scared, please don't carry everything alone." With that, Sakuma's gaze fell back to his coffee cup. Shiori looked up. His profile came into view. Short black hair, calm gray eyes. His expression was as quiet as always, but—there was something in that quietness. *(This person…)* Something pulsed deep in her chest. So clearly it almost hurt. She was about to try to understand what it was when— "Would you like a refill?" Seo appeared with a coffee pot. The timing was impossibly perfect. "Oh, yes, please!" Her voice came out louder than she'd intended. Sakuma's eyes narrowed slightly—whether he was smiling or surprised, she couldn't quite tell. Seo poured the coffee with a gentle smile and retreated to the back again. Shiori held her cup in both hands again, and drank the coffee as if to hide how hot her ears had become. --- On the way home, Yone was waiting at the entrance to Corpo Hamazaki. So much for "business at the bookstore." She was sitting in a chair on the veranda, reading a book while sipping canned coffee. She'd probably been there the whole time. When Yone saw Shiori's face, she slowly looked up. "[sarcastic] Your face has softened." "It hasn't." "[sarcastic] That's the face of someone in love." "I'm not!" "[sarcastic] Uh-huh. Immediate denial." "Because it's really—!" "[sarcastic] Is your face red from sunburn? Or were you indoors again?" Shiori had nothing to say. Yone laughed with a "hehe" and took a sip of her canned coffee. "[gentle] There's pumpkin stew for Rikuto's dinner today. I put it in the fridge." "Thank you so much." Her voice came out a little high-pitched. Yone looked satisfied and returned to her book. --- That night, after Rikuto brushed his teeth and got into bed, Shiori was about to turn off the light when a voice came from the darkness. "[gentle] Mom, do you like Sakuma-sensei?" The silence was so complete you could almost hear a coffee cup being set down. "…Like him in what way?" "[gentle] Because sensei worries about you, right? At the sports day, in the hallway, he's always watching. I like sensei too." With just that, Rikuto went quiet. His breathing became steady. He'd fallen asleep just like that. Shiori turned off the light and sat alone with his words. *"Worries about me"*—was that how Rikuto saw it? Maybe a nine-year-old's eyes could see through the complicated emotions of adults more clearly than she thought. The realization made her feel a little afraid. *(Sensei is watching Mom.)* Her chest pulsed again. The words "that's fine" and "please don't carry everything alone" still lingered in her ears for some reason. Shiori smiled wryly to herself. It had been a long time since someone's words stayed with her like this. --- The next morning, after sending Rikuto off, Shiori opened the mailbox. An electric bill. Flyers. And—a white envelope. The moment she saw it, the color drained from her face. In the sender's field, written in familiar handwriting: "Shogo Sakakibara." When she opened it, there was only one sheet of paper. Short lines of text. "—Don't think this is over." That was all. The warmth of yesterday's shopping street, the bitter aftertaste of coffee, the quiet voice saying "that's fine"—all of it vanished in an instant. Shiori stood in the bicycle parking area of Corpo Hamazaki, the envelope gripped in her hand. The sound of the sea drifted from far away. Just another morning in Shiomi City. But inside Shiori, something heavy had settled once more. She turned back to the mailbox and locked it. She had to go to work. She had to be proper for Rikuto's sake. And yet—the words Sakuma had spoken yesterday had fallen somewhere deep in her chest. *"Please don't carry everything alone."* Shiori still couldn't quite accept those words. But—she no longer had it in her to blame herself for not being able to.